


Making the Same Mistakes

by nottoolateforthegame



Series: Kink Meme Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Insecure Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining Sherlock, Slow Dancing, door sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottoolateforthegame/pseuds/nottoolateforthegame
Summary: Inspired byTumblr's Sherlock KinkmemePrompt #10:  Hey maybe one (Johnlock & BBC BTW) where Sherlock and John have just gotten together and Sherlock is really shy and insecure but trying not to show it and John picks up on something being wrong and makes him talk (if you add praise kink I’ll love you forever).





	1. Moodboard by ColebaltBlue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ColebaltBlue made this gorgeous moodboard as a gift to me for Holmestice! Thank you so much!


	2. Moodboard by ColebaltBlue

The sounds of John in the kitchen woke him. Early morning light slipped between the curtains, and he pulled the pillow over his head with a groan as he burrowed into the bed. Unconsciously, he tuned into the sounds of John making breakfast, the soft thud of a cupboard followed by the clank of a pan being set on the burner giving away his position in the kitchen.

 _John._ His mind still reeled at the events of the night before. He and John had entered a sexual relationship last night. More specifically, he had performed fellatio on John while John sat in his chair; then John had pulled Sherlock into his lap, opened his shirt and his flies and stroked him to completion while muttering things like gorgeous and sexy and that’s it love…Sherlock felt a hot blush steal over his body as he replayed the scene in his mind, recalling the warmth of John’s breath against his shoulder and neck, the heat of his hand against his cock, the intense focus on his face as he’d watched Sherlock climax…

Even as he felt a smile spread across his face, doubt crept in. Had they really entered a sexual relationship? Or had it been a one off? Would John act like nothing had happened? Or would he give an apologetic “that was nice, but don’t count on it happening again” speech? Or worse, did he regret that it had happened? Would he apologize, tell Sherlock that he hadn’t meant to do that, that he would be moving out now since Sherlock had ruined everything?

The smile fell from his face as he sat up, tugging at his curls even as he recalled the way things had ended the night before. John hadn’t dumped Sherlock from his lap and run away afterwards. He had held Sherlock in his arms, run his hands up and down his back, pressed kisses to his shoulder, his neck, the side of his head...then he’d pulled back with a laugh and swiped his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.

“Think you need a shower” he’d said, holding out sticky fingers.

Sherlock had blinked a few times, then stood awkwardly and looked down at John, who was still smiling. John hadn’t said anything else, had merely watched, seeming to expect Sherlock to say something. Sherlock didn’t have any experience with these kinds of situations (and his brain was still mostly off-line), and so had merely nodded and walked down the hall to the bathroom. His already lethargic limbs had grown heavier under the warm spray of the shower, and when he had emerged into his room, he had sat on the edge of the bed, intending to rest a moment before dressing and returning to the front room. Instead he’d found himself waking up (alone) in bed this morning.

Sherlock rallied. Hiding in his room would accomplish nothing. He needed to know where they stood, and the only way to accomplish that was to face John.  He wrapped his sheet around himself and strode out of his room.

“Morning.” John greeted as he entered the kitchen.

“Morning.” Sherlock hoped his voice didn’t betray his uncertainty.

John plated the bacon he had been frying, then set down the pan and spatula and turned to face him. He gave Sherlock a searching look, then stepped away from the counter.

“Sherlock. Last night-well, last night was bloody fantastic. When you didn’t come back after your shower, I figured you needed some time to process. I just-”here John looked away, swallowing. “I just want you to know that I understand if you’ve changed your mind, or decided you’d rather not do that again. We can pretend it never happened.” the last sounded a bit like John had something stuck in his throat. Then John turned back and caught his eye. “But I would love the chance to try again, if you want to. Whatever you decide-”

“You want to have sex again? With me?” Sherlock interrupted.

“-will be-” John cut off, eyes widening. “Yes. Yes of course I want to have sex with you. Christ, Sherlock, you’ve no idea how much! But, if you would rather not-”

Again, Sherlock cut him off-“No! Yes! I mean, that is, I would be amenable to, that. Us, having sex.”

“Yeah?”

Sherlock nodded. A wide grin split John’s face, and then he closed the distance between himself and Sherlock, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and turning back to the food he had prepared.

“Well, now that’s settled, I’ve made us some breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I’ve somehow worked up an incredible appetite.” he tossed a wink over his shoulder and carried the plates to the table.

Sherlock followed, a bit dazed. So, they _had_ entered a sexual relationship. He didn’t know whether to be glad or worried. After all, it doubtless wouldn’t be long before he did something wrong and ruined everything.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stared at the t.v. screen, unseeing. He had finished his pizza and tossed his plate on the coffee table. John had put on some sort of horror film, which Sherlock had tuned out almost instantly. Instead, he was focused on the distance between himself and John. He wanted to close the gap, to reach out or lean over and create points of contact between their bodies. Specifically, he wanted to lay his head in John’s lap and have John run his fingers through his hair, but he was quite certain that was outside the bounds of their current arrangement.

They had been having sex for thirteen days now. Usually in Sherlock’s bed, though occasionally they didn’t make it there, and once, John had joined him in the shower and given him a spectacular blow job. But, John always went back to his own room for the night. They didn’t hold hands in public, or cuddle on the couch or otherwise share touches outside of sex. As far as Sherlock could tell, they were what was commonly referred to as “friends with benefits”. Which was fantastic. It was more than Sherlock had ever dreamed of having with John.

But.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help the ache for more. The longing to know what it would be like for John to hold his hand while they walked through the park, or for them to exchange casual kisses over breakfast, or, in this instance, to have John toy with his hair while he rested his head in John’s lap. Just that. Not as a precursor to sex; simply because Sherlock wanted to be physically close to John, and John wanted to give affection to Sherlock.

He knew it was too much to ask for, but he was having a hard time convincing himself to not shift closer, to not press against John’s side and slouch down on the couch, slowly moving towards his goal…he must’ve shifted or made a move without realizing, because John suddenly turned to look at him.

“All done then?”

Sherlock hummed the affirmative.

“Good.  Then budge over.” this was accompanied by John reaching around Sherlock’s shoulders with one arm and tugging him closer, so that his head rested on John’s shoulder. “I’ve been waiting forever for you to finish eating so we could start a good cuddle.” John finished, dropping a kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head.  

Sherlock sat stock still, processing. John’s hand rubbed up and down his side, and slowly Sherlock relaxed against him. After about ten minutes, he let himself slide down just a bit, slouching against John’s side as he tucked his legs up onto the couch. Ever so slowly over the next ten minutes, he slid down, down, down, until finally, John shifted away a bit and pressed Sherlock’s head down onto his lap. Sherlock sighed and relaxed completely, curling his legs against his stomach. John’s hand rested against Sherlock’s head, and soon his fingers were combing through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes, drifting. His last thought before succumbing to sleep was that he hoped he could somehow convince John to do this again in the future.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, smutty smut

Sherlock groaned as John pressed him back against the living room door. He tilted his head back, giving John easier access to his neck. He slid down the door a bit, opening his thighs, allowing John to insert his thigh between them. His hips rocked forward as John pressed against his throbbing cock, his hands reaching around to pull John closer, harder. They were both naked, having stripped one another in their eagerness to get hands and mouths on flesh. He had often fantasized about them like this, before they had become whatever it was they were.

It was his favorite fantasy. Coming home from a case, John turning to him as they entered the room and pressing him back against the door or a wall. John’s hands and mouth everywhere, driving Sherlock wild. Both of them hot and hard and eager. Sherlock wrapping his legs around John’s waist, John’s strong arms supporting him as he thrust against Sherlock, bringing them both to climax…Sherlock’s prick twitched against John’s groin and he groaned again, his hands sliding up to clutch at Johns upper back, one hand wrapping around a shoulder.

John’s mouth left his neck, and he leaned his upper body back, looking up at Sherlock.

“Bedroom?” he asked, tilting his head towards the hallway.

“No!” Sherlock tightened his hold on John, burying his suddenly crimson face in John’s neck to hide it. Though they’d been having sex for weeks, John always initiated and Sherlock always followed his lead. He didn’t want to be too demanding, to rock the boat or show John just how ignorant he was in this area. But he desperately wanted this. “I want-can we just-?”and he lifted a leg, wrapping it around John’s waist, the shift bringing their hardened cocks into alignment.

John groaned, then leaned forward, tugging Sherlock’s leg higher before sliding his hand under his arse, lifting him slightly and pressing him harder against the door.

“Like this?” John asked, rocking his hips forward in a way that rubbed their leaking cocks against one another.  

Sherlock gasped.

“Or?” The hand that had lifted his leg drifted inwards, fingers teasing over the rounded flesh before dipping between his cheeks, just brushing over his hole.  

Sherlock pulled back from John’s neck so fast his head thunked against the door. He hadn’t ever contemplated penetrative sex in this position. But now-.

“That!” he blurted, wriggling slightly, suddenly aware of how incredibly empty he felt.

John chuckled, then slid his hand down Sherlock’s leg, disentangling it and setting it down. Sherlock frowned. _Stupid! He’d ruined the mood with his obvious ignorance and by being over eager. Now John was going to-_

His thoughts cut off as John pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“Be right back. Need lube.” he said as he pulled away, leaving Sherlock to brace himself against the door and wait, brain struggling to catch up.

John was back before Sherlock could work himself up too much. He leaned in to kiss Sherlock, working himself fully between Sherlock’s legs and leaning forward to press Sherlock against the door again. His right hand rested against Sherlock’s neck for a moment, merely a warm presence, before it drifted down, down, down, fingertips slowly skimming Sherlock’s torso, side, outer thigh before gripping his leg and hoisting it up again, encouraging Sherlock to wrap it around his waist. His lips never left Sherlock’s, his tongue thrust between his lips to slide in and out in a mimicry of what he would soon be doing to Sherlock elsewhere.

Sherlock held on tight, eyes squeezed shut, a heated thrill running through his body, causing him to arch forward, rutting slightly against John. He whimpered as he felt John’s hand drift up the back of his thigh and inwards, one finger sliding between his cheeks and settling against his hole. John continued kissing him, then his hands disappeared for a moment as he squirted lube onto his fingers. His slicked up finger returned, just pressing slightly against his hole, and Sherlock heard the thunk of the lube bottle hitting the floor before John’s other hand came to toy with his nipple.

Slowly, John worked him open, starting with just the tip of one finger. Sherlock squirmed against him, cock pressed deliciously to John’s own hardness, back pressed to the door, hole exposed to the cool air of the room and John’s hot, probing fingers. John refused to be rushed, merely pulling back slightly whenever Sherlock became over eager, grasping John’s backside and rutting against him, or arching his back and trying to thrust himself down on John’s fingers. He was practically begging by the time John finally (finally!) felt he was ready.

John pulled the three fingers he had been working Sherlock open with out of him, then slid that hand down to his knee, pulling it tighter against his waist. His other hand grabbed at Sherlock’s other leg, and suddenly he found himself in exactly the position he had dreamed of, legs wrapped tight around John’s waist as he was braced against the door by John’s strong arms and hard body. John had slid a hand under Sherlock’s thigh, reaching under to align himself with Sherlock’s hole. He hadn’t even noticed John lubing up his cock, but by the slick slide of him as he pressed into Sherlock ever so slowly, he had clearly liberally lubed himself up recently.

They both gasped when John finally bottomed out, Sherlock tilting his head back as John pressed his face against Sherlock’s neck.

“God, Sherlock.” John groaned.

Sherlock couldn’t reply, merely whimpering and arching against John, wanting him to hurry up and start moving already. John got the hint, slowly rolling his hips against Sherlock, steadily picking up the rhythm until Sherlock was practically bouncing on his dick against the door. Sherlock’s own cock was sliding between the two of them, leaking precum across both of their stomachs. His back arched as he felt his orgasm approaching, his toes beginning to curl as his thighs tightened around John.

“John!”

“That’s it. Come for me, my gorgeous genius.”

John had pulled back slightly to look up at Sherlock’s face, watching as the first wave of his orgasm washed over him, causing his mouth to drop open and his eyes to fall shut in rapture. And then John was pressing Sherlock hard against the door, burying himself balls deep as his own orgasm tore through him, spilling himself deep inside his lover.

They stayed against the door, panting and riding the tail ends of their orgasms for some time. Eventually, John pulled back, grinning up at Sherlock.

“Got any other magnificent ideas in that brilliant brain of yours?” he asked, giving Sherlock a quick peck on the lips.

Sherlock just shook his head, too sated to even reply.

“Seriously, though, love. Anything. Anytime. Anywhere.” John pressed quick kisses to his lips in between each word.

Then he pulled away, sliding out of Sherlock and helping him get his legs back on the ground. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” he said, one arm around Sherlock’s waist as he helped him down the hall. He helped him get settled on the mattress, then climbed up next to him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and tugging him to settle his head against his chest. Soon they both drifted off, with Sherlock pressing his ear to John’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock watched from across the room as John chatted with a willowy red headed woman. He could clearly see them across the nearly empty dance floor, near the end of the bar. His stomach clenched as he saw John’s “three continents Watson” smile, the one that never failed to charm his target. They were at a bar, one that required membership and catered to a certain level of clientele that expected privacy and luxury, in that order. There had been a recent rash of break ins at client homes, which the Met had traced back to the club, but Dimmock had needed to call Sherlock in to pinpoint which of the staff were involved.

He and John had pretended to be new clients, and Sherlock had solved the case within an hour. It had been easy enough to pick out the coat check, bartender and busboy that were working as a team to swipe client cards and keys. Sherlock had texted the owner and Lestrade; the staff responsible had been taken away discretely for questioning. The owner had insisted Sherlock and John stay and enjoy drinks on the house, and they had stayed. They’d been here nearly an hour since then, and now John had wandered across the softly lit dance room to chat up some woman.

Sherlock frowned down at his drink, unable to keep watching. John hadn’t been on a date since that first night they’d had sex. In fact, Sherlock had begun to hope that John considered them to be in a relationship. He regularly slept in Sherlock’s bed now. They sat together on the couch 32% more often than before, either wrapped up together watching television, or simply pressed together as John worked on his laptop and Sherlock worked on a case. They exchanged affection casually and frequently, at home and in public. They had sex nearly every night, and even on nights when they didn’t have sex, John would still climb in bed with Sherlock and hold him (Sherlock secretly sometimes liked those nights the best, as on those nights he could almost believe that John loved him, just for him and just as he was).  

Now, he realized that he was romanticizing their relationship. They had never spoken about what they were doing, never defined what this new relationship was. What’s more, they hadn’t ever spoken about being exclusive. John was free to pick up women at bars if he wanted to. But Sherlock felt as though he was dying inside at the thought that John wanted to. Why wasn’t he enough? What had he done to drive John away? Just this morning, they’d slept late, and when they’d woken, John had insisted the stay in bed and snuggle awhile.

He set his drink down decisively. He may not have any right to John’s attention, but that didn’t mean he had to stay and watch John pull. He was going home, and if he curled up in bed and fell apart, well, at least John wouldn’t come home and find him like that (at least there was that to be grateful for-whenever John got lucky, he always went back to their place). He stood and began to walk towards the door, only looking up when he bumped into a hard body.

John.      

John placed his hands on Sherlock’s upper arms, looking up at him in concern.

“Are you alright? Not feeling peaky are you?” he asked, licking his lips as he scanned Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock mutely shook his head, refusing to meet his eyes. He wanted to pull away, to push past John and rush out the door, but found himself glued to the floor, unable to do or say anything.

“Good.”

Sherlock glanced up at that, John’s tone bordering somewhere between glad and nervous. He watched as John licked his lips again-a tell. John was nervous. About what? Did he think Sherlock was going to make a scene? Was he about to give Sherlock some carefully thought out speech, explaining that what they had was just a casual fling and oh by the way, I’ve decided to move on to the hot redhead at the bar? Before Sherlock could launch the offensive, tell John he needn’t worry, that he was leaving and John could do as he damn well pleased, John was stepping back and holding out a hand.

“Dance with me?”

Sherlock stared.

“Please?”

“Wouldn’t you rather dance with your new friend?” he found himself asking, cringing even as the jealous words flew from his lips.

John frowned. “Becca?”

“Becca? Short for Rebecca, no doubt. Shortens it to sound younger.” he stopped, drawing in a sharp breath and looking away. “Regardless. I’ve no doubt she would say yes if you asked.”

John reached out one hand, settling it against Sherlock’s cheek, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“I don’t want to dance with Rebecca. I want to dance with you. The only reason I was chatting with her at all is because the bartender told me she has an in with the D.J. and I wanted to request a song.”

Even as John finished his sentence, the music changed. Sherlock didn’t recognize the song, it was something popular, but slow. It almost had a Jazz feel to it, and was clearly a slow song. He could hear a man singing almost immediately

.. _.when your legs don’t work like they used to before_ ….

“Dance with me.” this time John slid his hand down to Sherlock's, then gave a tug.

Sherlock followed, then allowed himself to be drawn into John’s arms. John wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, resting his other hand on his shoulder by sliding it up his back. They began to sway to the beat, the dance so much more casual than any Sherlock had ever had shared, yet seemingly infinitely more intimate. John tilted his head, looking up at Sherlock, face serious.

“Care to explain what that was about?” he asked, tilting his head towards where he’d caught Sherlock attempting to leave.

Sherlock looked away, swallowing. If he wasn’t careful, John could call an end to their relationship entirely. If he could only prevent that, he could work out how to move their relationship towards and exclusive one later.

“We never discussed being an exclusive couple. If you choose to seek sexual release elsewhere, that is your right. I apologize. I understand that I’ve no right to be jealous.” he managed around a tight throat.

“No right-” John cut himself off with a choked sound, arms tightening around Sherlock. Sherlock could feel him breathing deeply for a few moments. The music carried on around them.

... _so honey now_ ….

“Sherlock.” John’s voice came out thick. Sherlock’s eyes were drawn back to his face. John’s eyes shone, his face and unreadable mask of emotions. “Do you really think what we have is just some sort of fling? That I’m just using you for casual sex?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened at John’s incredulous tone. He realized John was expecting some sort of reply.

“John. I’ve never-” he drew a breath, glancing away and back. “I had thought we were...something more...but we’ve never said...and tonight…” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

But John, wonderful John, seemed to understand exactly. His face shifted, understanding dawning.

“Oh, love.” John’s entire demeanor changed, shoulders dropping, arms pulling Sherlock just a bit closer, face softening. “I should’ve realized.”

He leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to Sherlock’s lips.

“I love you. Can’t believe I’ve never actually said that. Fool that I was, I thought I would scare you off.”

“You love me?” the words left Sherlock on a breath.

“Course. Of course I do. Have for so long I can’t really remember not loving you. Christ, Sherlock. I love you so much, it hurts sometimes. I don’t want anyone else. I want us to be us until we’re old and retired and die in bed of old age together. I’m not going anywhere unless you throw me out. Even then, I’d probably still trail after you like a lost puppy.” his eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said.

Sherlock felt as though his chest might burst. He wanted so very much to respond to John’s words, but his throat felt as though he’d swallowed a rock. He tried to swallow around it.

“John, I would never ask you to leave. We can retire to Sussex. I want to keep bees.” he finally burst out before leaning down to kiss John with all the pent up emotion trying to climb out of his chest. They stopped moving for a few moments as they snogged, right there on the dance floor.

Then John pulled back with chuckle and they began swaying slowly again.

“Bees?”

Sherlock nodded eagerly. “They’re fascinating, John. And they make honey!” he beamed down at John, who was looking up at him with a familiar look. Oh. He recalled all the times he’d seen John look at him like this, eyes shining, mouth quirked, face soft. John loved him. John. Loved. Him. “I love you too!” he blurted out, realizing he hadn’t returned the words.

John’s soft smile turned into a full on grin. His “three continents Watson” grin. The one that promised all sorts of naughty fun.

“Good. After this dance, I’m going to take you home and we can show each other just how much we love one another, yeah?”

Sherlock shivered, hands clenching at John’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, replaying the previous moments in his mind, wanting to capture the feelings and sensations. He tuned back into the music, wanting to remember this song.

... _take me into your loving arms_...  

Maybe John would let him choreograph their wedding dance to this song. And Sherlock was certain there would be a wedding now. John loved him. That was all he needed to know to feel certain their future would be absolutely amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr!](http://nottoolateforthegame.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Opening up the blinds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989475) by [Readingfanfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics)




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